Masquerade
by Alaena Night
Summary: [Wolfwood : Millie : Vash : Meryl : Knives : Legato] Six characters, six lives, and six masks that hide the true faces of the characters of Trigun. But who are they hiding from? Others...or themselves? [Vash x Meryl — Millie x Wolfwood]
1. Wolfwood: The Pain of Hope

**Masquerade Pt. 1: Wolfwood; The Pain of Hope**

**Author's Notes: **_This is the first of what's going to be a six-part story. I've had this idea in my head forever. (Forever equals many months. I'm so lazy!) Each part will stand alone, and will deal with one character (Millie, Wolfwood, Meryl, Vash, Legato, Knives) and the person they are behind the 'mask' they put on to hide their feelings, whether from others or from themselves. LOL, if I haven't bored everyone to death, here goes the story. Oh, and the disclaimer! I don't and could never in my wildest dreams hope to own Trigun._

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"Mr. Priest man, are you listening?" Millie animatedly spun around and poked Nicholas D. Wolfwood on the arm. "Hellooo..." She drew the word out until he looked her way, and responded to his gaze with a bright smile. He returned the same one, but much dimmer.

The sand outside of the little ice-cream vendor's shade was hot enough to blister one's skin on contact. Wolfwood swore to the skies that he had been dragged into this. He supposed it was his fault that he'd stayed to ask the big girl if she was going with Meryl and Vash to the ask directions, though. The tall insurance girl had grabbed his arm and insisted on getting some ice cream to take the bite off of the heat.

Three iced puddings later, and well into the fourth, Wolfwood wondered if it had been such a good idea.

He sighed. Sunglasses glinted over his eyes in the bright afternoon light of the suns, and he stared through the dark lenses to the children scampering barefooted across the ground. They'd been born into this hell, into this wretched heat, like most of the people here. Their feet were calloused and used to the damning temperatures, their bodies adapted to the constant, glaring sunlight.

Adaptation.

One of mankind's best traits, but at the same time one of its worst features. People...could adapt to anything if you gave them time. Heat...pain...loneliness. Murder...violence. Fear.

A rough leather ball was kicked back and forth around little feet. Giggles punctuated the air.

Even the gentlest soul could be hardened to suffering.

Any of these smiling children could end up like him. One moment was all it took to tear a life apart. Happiness could blow away like the sand in the wind. He'd always wanted to stand in front of them to keep that from happening.

Another poke. "Aww, aren't they so sweet! You think they'd like some ice cream too, Mr. Priest?"

He shrugged, grinning twistedly as he chewed at an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Her smile was big, too, but it was genuine, something he couldn't usually manage.

"Why don't you go ask them? I hope they can join us! My big big sister says the only thing better than enjoying something sweet is letting other people do it! Does that make any sense to you? It didn't to me for a long time but then I got it! I like to see the children smile, don't you, Mr. Priest?"

Wolfwood dredged up a grin and let it slide onto his face, glinting around the cigarette clutched in his mouth. "Yeah." It was true. He loved to see children smile. It reminded him that there were still things truly alive on this planet.

"Are you going to ask?" Millie messily slurped a spoonful of pudding, gingerly clutching the spoon between two fingers. Her eyes blinked at him happily from the side. She seemed oddly persistent to lug him out of this darkness.

He stood, shaking his head at her persistence. Shielding his eyes from the sun's glare despite the sunglassses' protection, he walked out to the group of children. One rushed in front of him just as he stopped, and the child skidded, shocked at his sudden appearance. Another boy launched the ball forward with a fast kick. The child right ahead of him, off-balance, would not be able to catch it. It would hit him straight in the face.

If nothing else, Wolfwood's experiences had sharpened his instincts. He reached forward and caught the ball just as the gaping little boy plopped down at his feet.

The boy gasped and scrambled up, sliding back in the dust and sand. Wolfwood moved forward to stop him, but then he realized that he must be a pretty scary sight. A solemn man in a black suit with dark glasses.

He took the shades off and smiled at the children. "Hey, you guys have been busy for a while. You need nourishment. So how about some ice cream?"

The tallest of the kids stepped forward and the others huddled behind him. Despite their eager eyes, the leader spoke warily. "We're not supposed to go with people we don't know."

"Oh," Wolfwood said. "That's okay, then." He shrugged, turned around, and walked away. Just as he expected, a multitude of tiny footsteps crept across the sand behind him. The smile was real this time, and it stayed on his face until he arrived, at which point he turned around. Not questioning the boys' contradictory actions, he simply said, "What flavor?"

They all chose varying flavors, many mixed, and more than one begged an extra scoop out of the soft-hearted ice cream man. Cons in the making, these kids were. The cold caution he'd seen earlier was gone as they sat on the sand , wiggling their toes and desperately licking at hands and cones in an attempt to keep every last drop to themselves. The little group butted elbows and "borrowed" bites, ending in two fallen scoops, which Millie happily replaced. She looked over at Wolfwood while the children squabbled. "You're smiling again," she said. Her tone of voice made it a happy accusation.

Wolfwood glanced over and laughed quietly.

"It's nice," she said.

"Hmm?"

"You smile lots, but they're sort of dry. You know like how you go to buy pudding and then it tastes funny because the people who sell it add water so they don't have to give so much pudding away?"

"Um...what?" Wolfwood said.

"That's how your smiles are." Millie nodded firmly. She licked a streak of pudding off of her finger. "Or maybe not quite like that." Her smile melted away. "They're so sad..and afraid. It makes me sad, too."

Wolfwood froze.

The sound of wind blowing and the bubbling of children's laughter faded in his mind, and he only heard Millie's voice when she spoke softly, each word like an electric jolt. "What are you afraid of, Mr. Priest?"

Damn. This girl was too perceptive.

_What was he afraid of? _

_He was afraid of failure. He was afraid of hope. He was afraid that his life had been lived on incorrect assumptions, afraid that no matter what he did in the future, he'd never be able to make up for the sins he'd committed in his past, afraid that redemption was much too far for a mere human like himself to reach. For all the things he'd done..._

_But most of all, he was afraid of trying. Afraid of dying. Absolution was but a leap to take, and yet he was too damned afraid to fall._

He smiled, shaking the thoughts from his mind. "Nothing. Why do you say that?"

Millie sighed as her eyes caught on his stretched smile. She absently stirred her pudding. "No reason," she said brightly.

Concern showed on her face as clearly as the clouds in the sky. She held the spoon loosely in her fingers and let it drop into the now empty bowl.

"Hey, don't worry," Wolfwood smiled and put his arm around her shoulder. She stiffened in surprise, but she caught his smile and didn't seem to mind so much. "Let's go and see if those two lovebirds have got the directions to Tonim yet, shall we?" he said.

He lit the cigarette between his lips. He'd thought fleetingly about quitting, but it was one of the only pleasures _on_ this rock, so he didn't see why he should. Smoking was as familiar to him as the hot, dry winds that ravaged this sandy ground. Besides, uncertainty and doubt only brought hesitation. He couldn't afford that. For now, until he saw what he needed to do, he'd just continue living as he'd learned to over the years. There wasn't any better way than that. Breathing a lungful of smoke out to the wind, he stood.

Wolfwood bid farewell to the children and told them to stay out of trouble. They just wiggled their toes and kicked up sand, baring toothless smiles at him as he waved them away.

He felt the emptiness recede, if only for a moment. The memories would return later, but for now...it was bearable.

And anyway, redemption might be closer than he thought.

Perhaps he could reach it.

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**Notes: **_Thanks for reading! Also, thanks to **Sugar Pill** for the constructive crit! Is my Wolfwood IC? (huggles Wolfwood) Anyway, I hope to be able to put up another chapter soon. **Please review?** Reviews are always greatly appreciated. (puts reviewers in a jar and loves them to death) But I won't put you in a jar...promise._


	2. Meryl: Locked Inside

**Masquerade Pt. 2: Meryl; Locked Inside**

**Author's Notes: **_At last, the second part! Sorry for the delay. The PM and alert system have been going crazy on me, but it looks like they're back up! I'm really glad. Anyway... (crosses fingers) Here goes part two!_

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It was a morning like any other, a sunrise the same as any of a billion she'd seen, and a soft wind she'd felt countless times before. It was just normal. _Everything_ was normal. So why didn't she feel that way, too? Meryl sat by the laced curtain fluttering over the window, staring out at the dusty hill.

Why _didn't_ she feel normal? Why couldn't she get up and write reports and do the things she always did? Meryl saw a man milling about the city, dragging his wife and two children along with him good-naturedly, and she watched from her distant vantage point. Unexpectedly, the man caught her eye. She looked away, and as he waved, she closed the curtain.

It wasn't that she was trying to be rude. She just felt...bare, as if all of the feelings she tucked under her professional exterior were bleeding from her eyes.

She couldn't allow that.

She hadn't been raised to act like this. She was strong. From when Meryl had been small, living with her father in that tiny house on the edge of town, she'd been exposed to the worst of this planet's inhabitants. She'd gone to school just like any other girl, dragged a backpack along behind her and meandered longingly past store windows on the way home, but unlike other girls, she'd learned how to use a weapon before she learned any of the more womanly traits she'd been taught. A single bullet could make the difference, she'd been told.

She'd grown up just as much a man as any of the other boys she played with. She'd wanted to make her father proud, though, so she'd worked hard, burying herself in school and sucking up all the information she'd found. He'd always told her that she was a smart girl, that despite her circumstances, she could make something of herself. He'd smiled that small smile he reserved just for her, and she'd believed him wholeheartedly. Learning had been her drug. When she'd grown old enough to move on, she had landed a place at a very prestigious insurance group.

Bernardelli.

She'd been one of their best employees, unafraid of danger, calm under pressure, cautious, capable...rational.

That's what everyone had seen when they looked at her, and she was glad. She'd worked hard to give that impression. It wasn't good to show weakness in this kind of world, so she supressed all signs of it.

That was the way she liked it.

But it hadn't stayed that way for long.

After a whole history of successful operations, she'd been given the ultimate assignment, and she'd expected it to be just like all the others. What she hadn't expected was exactly what she found. The infamous outlaw, Vash the Stampede, was everything he wasn't supposed to be and wasn't any of the things that typical outlaws _were. _He brought out her temper and shattered her illusion of composure.

And the worst part of all, the most unforgivable thing he'd done to her...

He'd made her love him.

Sitting at the window, she cursed the stupid idiot.

This was _exactly _why she hated love. Just like love had left her father broken, it was doomed to break all who touched it. Meryl's mother had given birth, and soon after that, she'd run off, unwilling to take the responsibility of caring for a child.

Love clouded a person's mind, making them see others in a twisted view, a view that hid every hint of hatred and malice and betrayal.

Love lied.

So when she'd seen the smile fade from her father's eyes as a child, she'd promised she'd never love.

Of course, sometimes these things slammed into you head-on.

Meryl sat up straight, drawing her composure from a well of strength she thought had been long dry. Her logical mind comforted her. _Love can be forgotten. It can be buried. Work. Work hard, and he won't matter anymore._

That was what she'd do. It was perfect. Love really wasn't as all-encompassing as some people seemed to think. Because she wasn't willing to bare herself to anyone, she could not love. She would not.

Meryl sighed, opening the curtain once again and staring silently at the hill in the distance.

Logic mocked her.

_Oh really?_

_So why do you still wait for him?_

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**A/N: **::_Does a happy dance:: Meryl's finally done! I admit that some of Meryl's history is guesswork, but I imagine that she probably grew up something like this. Anyway, please leave your thoughts! As always, criticism is my friend. I'd love to hear any suggestions. Anyway, Vash is up next! (_makes huge, wobbly, glinty, pleading, googly puppy eyes_) **Please review? **Yeah...I totally know I'm pathetic..._


	3. Vash: Beneath Blue Skies

**Masquerade Pt. 3: Vash; Beneath Blue Skies**

**Author's Notes: **_I don't own Trigun. I do own butterscotch brownies, though, a mind made for late, late nights, and an imagination as brutally obstinate as a rock. So here I am, writing at four in the morning...and hoping that whatever comes out is even slightly legible... wait. Legible is handwriting. So...comprehensible?_

_

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"What are you reaching for?" Meryl asked, looking curiously at Vash. She sat across from him on a jagged rock, watching as he closed his outstretched fist on nothing but air. She blinked, interested despite herself.

Vash cast her a flashbulb grin—there, then gone—and withdrew his hand. He rubbed slowly, bashfully, at the back of his neck with his right hand, pursing his lips in thought. "Heh, you know...I don't remember anymore. It's just...I used to do that. Lots, a long time ago. And I know I was reaching for something. Would you believe it? I just can't remember what it is!" He laughed self-deprecatingly, biting his lip and picking up a pebble from beside him. He considered its smooth edges for a moment, and then he tossed it over the edge.

Meryl leaned over, watching until she couldn't see it anymore. She didn't hear any plink at the bottom. Of course...this was sand. What did she expect? Even the sound of a short fall would be masked by the sand.

A sharp gust of wind tore from the skies above them, sending stinging sand onto their faces. Vash just closed his eyes, as if used to it. Meryl clapped her hands to her face to keep most of the grit away. The wind finally settled, slower but still heavy enough to knock a person off balance if they weren't careful.

Meryl glanced at the sky. "Blue," she observed dryly. "Why's it so windy, then?" She smoothed her shirt and stood, staring upward. Vash's eyes followed hers.

"I guess even the sky has secrets. You'd never know what a blue sky can hide," he said cheerfully. When Meryl looked at him, he smiled, but as soon as he thought she wasn't looking, the smile faded away to a dark, old, worn expression that felt like falling. It was as empty as it was deep, and it was painful. She felt like she'd been locked into a dark and bottomless chasm when she looked into his eyes. She wondered how much stronger he felt it.

Meryl glanced up at the sky, marveling at how much the turquoise heavens looked like Vash's eyes.

It really was amazing what rested in secret beneath blue skies.

"Insurance girl!"

The sharp exclamation tore her out of her reverie, sending a jolt of shock through her that landed her uncomfortably close to the edge of the cliff. The owner of the sharp voice just stared at her, blinking innocently as he gripped the edge of her coat. "Don't fall," he warned happily.

Meryl sucked in a breath and straighened her harried demeanor, jumping impulsively to her feet as anger washed through her. "Wha—what were you just doing? You know, it's rude to—"

Vash cowered beneath her stabbing finger. "Hey, Insurance Girl," he whined. "I was just trying to get your attention. We were about to lose you!"

"Lose?" Meryl asked humorlessly, directing her most caustic gaze at the Typhoon.

"Yeah. If you get too serious...if you think too much, you'll actually get _lost _in thought, and we might never be able to find you again!"

Meryl's glare crumpled at Vash's stupidity, and she slipped back down on the sand.

She wondered if he'd ever gotten lost in thought, and who had found him.

"You look _reeeeally _funny, Insurance Girl. You okay?"

She turned to him, supressing the hint of a smile. "I think you broke my brain, you broomheaded idiot."

He nodded, then turned back, extending his hand as another gust of wind blew. Just like last time, he closed it on nothing. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to hear his soft murmur; "Like time...just like time...you can't stop the wind. Can't grab it."

He turned to her. "Sometimes I think it's right in front of me, you know?"

Meryl scooted off to the side. Too close. He was sitting too close. "What?" she asked grudgingly.

"What I want. What I'm searching for. But then, I'm afraid to grab it...because I have other things in my hand. Would you drop a handful of double-dollars to reach for just one more? It's kind of like that."

Meryl felt an odd sort of shudder run through her.

This was strange.

Was she actually having an intelligible, adult conversation with this idiot?

"Hey hey hey! I'm really hungry! Do you think Big Girl and Wolfwood maybe packed some salmon sandwiches?"

Meryl sighed, dismissing her question. Of course not.

All she saw when she looked at him was happy blue skies, bright and carefree. But sometimes, when he didn't think she saw, she felt the cold wind slice through that sky.

She spoke before she could capture her words and measure the intelligence of speaking so suddenly. "So if you can't remember what it is you want to grab, and if you're afraid to lose what you have, why do you still reach?"

_Curiosity; the need for knowledge. A need that defied logic and common sense. _Meryl's failing point. She gritted her teeth. Why was it that she did she all the things she promised she _wouldn't do _around this doofus? She should hit him, she really should...

"Because."

Meryl turned to look as Vash spoke.

"Because...if I don't reach, then it means that I don't believe I can grab it. Even if I don't want to...even if it hurts or if I'm not quite ready, I have to reach because if I give up hope I lose. And I can't lose. There's too much yet to do. I...have to keep my promise."

"Ah..." Meryl bit the inside of her lip and nodded. Did she understand? Not really. But sort of. A ripple of discomfort swept through her.

One part of her wanted to walk away. The other part needed to say something to bridge this silence. The silence seemed to bring their thoughts closer together rather than stretching them into the distance, and Meryl would have done about anything at that point to keep the emotions from getting any closer to her.

Kind of like...

She looked at Vash from beneath hooded eyes.

Kind of like him, she supposed. He was just like that. _Thus far and no farther. _He felt the pain of everyone, and he tried to bear the burdens of so many, but still, humanity held him at arm's length, and he complied, desperately remaining distant in an attempt to stay rooted in the reality he was used to, in an attempt to preserve his memories and promises...feelings that had faded over the ages but still shone in his mind.

For a while, she'd told herself that he'd rested, finally found a place to stay, a place to call home.

Vash didn't have a home, though. Even while he sat right beside her, he wandered in his mind, wandered through memories and through years, going far, far back to places and people she couldn't possibly comprehend. When his eyes were clear, though, and when he thought she was doing something else, she could watch his journeys through those eyes. She saw the sadness and his true smiles. She saw innocence, fear, uncertainty, and internal scars just as clearly as she had seen those on the outside.

Meryl watched him now, while he didn't see her watching, and she saw his pain. Before she knew it, she felt tears brim in her eyes. She leaned over to hide them, letting her hait slip over her eyes, but instead of holding them in, she let them fall.

Her teardrops landed in the sand below her, making dusty craters and polka dots on her pants.

_For Vash._

She cried because his skies had no room for rain. He always kept them blue, even when the wind tore his world apart. So he sat there in front of her, surrounded by others and yet completely alone, dying in a world she couldn't follow him into.

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**Author's Notes: **_Please forgive me...I sort of threw the usual out of the window and wrote a chapter without the chapter's subject as viewpoint character. For some reason, this story wouldn't work any other way, though. I've written Vash so much through his own perspective that it almost came natural to try to see him through someone else's. Hope this is okay!_


	4. Millie: Forgive and Forget

**Masquerade Pt. 4: Millie; Forgive and Forget**

**Author's Notes:** _Millie's one of the toughest characters in Trigun because, unlike the others, she's blatantly obvious with a lot of stuff and sparing with the things she hides. She's got a light and bright demeanor that's tough to catch just right, too. She's definitely a unique character, and I can only hope I do her justice with this story. It's a bit different than the others, with less angsting and more ... Millie. And (don't tell!) a tiny bitsy hint of WxM._

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"'Scuse me, miss. Sorry to bother ya, but 'd you like to join in?"

Millie looked up at the soft voice, smiling as she swung her feet against the bar. She followed the speaker's gesturing hand until her eyes settled on a poker game being played out in the corner of the room.

"Hmm..." _Thunk_—her feet hit against the old wood of the bar. She swiveled in the creaky stool to face him. "Maybe. Well, I do want to finish eating first." _Thunk_. "It's no fun when you try to do something else while you're eating." _Thunk._ "Loses the taste, you know?" Millie grinned up at the man, who had a rather blank expression on his face. He had very thin grey-brown hair and deep-set dark eyes.

He quickly gathered himself and smiled. "See ya then, Miss."

"Mmhmm!" She turned back to the bar and continued to swing her feet, still grinning. They hadn't had pudding here, but this bar had a special beverage they called milkshakes. They were very nice. And surprisingly cold, too. This place had gotten a lot of customers for its particular novelty. Millie spooned a creamy bit of the shake into her mouth, and giggled in ecstasy. A lot of the people in the bar were looking at her a bit funny, but she didn't mind.

The bartender walked by, and she stopped him with furious waving of her spoon. He sighed, rubbing worn hands on an apron, and stopped, hand cocked questioningly on his hip. "Something I can do for you?"

"Uh-uh! I'm fine. But this is really _good!_"

The man gave the most cursory of nods and walked away. Millie went back to her shake. Each bite brought a giggle and many more glances. After several minutes, Millie emptied the last creamy spoonful into her mouth and set the empty cup down sadly next to its previous three companions. "It's all gone again." A desolate sigh turned into a yawn and she got up. "Tired..." She paid and waved goodbye to the bartender, promising to be back later. She glanced around the room, and only then did she remember. She'd promised to play.

Trudging over to the smoke-obscured table, she grinned below bleary eyes. "I'm sleepy," she announced.

The rough-looking men shifted their burning gazes from the game to her face and then glanced back. Millie's smile didn't falter. "Oh, hey!" She singled out the man who had invited her earlier. "Can I play?"

"Ya got enough money?"

"Umm..." Millie dug into her pockets then froze, nodding and pulling out a mouthwatering fist full of cash. "I think..."

The players' dry looks suddenly brightened.

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"Ooh! All the special pretty ones and a ten! All diamonds! That means I win again, right?"

Millie looked around at the players, but their smiles were no longer in place. In fact, their expressions were downright menacing. She yawned loudly and smiled. "I really have to go now. Goodnight everyone! Thanks for the fun. Oh! And you guys should really try those shakes. They're very yummy."

She shoved the double dollars into her pocket and pushed back from her seat.

Through the dusty windows, it wasn't hard to tell that it was nearly dark outside. Only two moons were visible in the sky tonight, Millie noted. Her mom had always said that the fewer the moons, the more evil abounded, but Millie wasn't sure that was true. She'd stayed out one night with her brother when only a single moon was visible, and they'd had a lot of fun playing sand fort tag in the dark.

As she walked out of the bar, though, an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. Stopping for a moment, she contemplated it, finally coming to a conclusion.

One should not eat four milkshakes in one sitting.

At ease now, she walked on.

"Miss?"

The voice was familiar, and she stopped suddenly, searching for its owner.

The man from the bar.

"Hi! You again! How are you? And thanks for inviting me to play. It was very fun!"

His expression faltered for a moment, but then a huge smile forced his thin lips upward. "Good. Heya...I'm new to this place, would ya mind helping me out?"

"Mm-mmm! Not at all. Do you need something?"

He smiled, and it reminded her of lemons, a fruit masquerading to be sweet but painfully sour beneath its brightly colored skin. "Nah, just some help. Would it be too much trouble fer ya to show me to the hospital? My friend's been put up in a room there."

Millie nodded. "Of course! It's...let's see...you go to the pretty store with the shiny bell on the front, and after that, you turn in the direction where the sun is shining—wait. Doesn't that work only in daytime? But after the shiny bell, you go...Oh! There's a toy tomas in someone's front yard! Turn that way. The hospital is by the dirty scary-looking bar. I guess they put it there because all the dirty scary-looking people get into fights a lot..."

"Ahhh...sorry? _What?"_

"What?" Millie asked. "Oh..." She frowned. "Sempai always said I was bad with directions."

"Could you show me, then? I'd be much obliged."

That smile again. The guy seemed kind of strange, but with his friend in the hospital and all... "Okay!" Besides, if anything happened, she had her stun gun.

Millie nodded. The man probably wanted to see his friend quickly, so she hurried. She grabbed his wrist to make sure he didn't get lost, because once she'd had a pet and she hadn't put it on a leash and it had wandered away...

It was very sad.

She smiled back as she wandered through a darkened pathway. A swath of grey-black cloud wafted over the second moon, leaving only the first visible in the sky. The first moon's glow was nearly red, and without the softer blue glow of its companion, the light seemed frighteningly lacking.

"Kinda scary, dontcha think?"

There was no response. The man stopped abruptly in the alleyway and stood still. Millie frowned in worry. "Was I too fast? Sometimes I do go on and on..."

The response was a rather hard poke in her gut. She looked down to see a menacing gun pointing at her.

"Hmm?" She frowned. "I don't think I went _that _fast..." A pause. "Are you mad at me?"

The man shook his head, the forced smiles all gone as he glared through the darkness. "I just want the money."

Millie frowned, her eyebrows lowering over her eyes. "But...you _wanted _me to play!"

The man snorted. "'Cause you look so stupid I thought you'd _lose._"

"But..." Millie frowned. She could probably get to the stungun, but she hated to use it in situations like this. Instead, her weapon of choice was a menacingly pointing finger. "You know...it's wrong to take things from other people! You should just ask. Your friend in the hospital would be very sad!"

The man laughed, suddenly and unrestrainedly. "God! You believed that? I don't _have_ a friend in the hospital."

"Oh." Millie's expression darkened as realization dawned. "You...! Dishonesty or a horrible thing!" she huffed. The gun against her stomach reminded her that she shouldn't be lecturing this man, but she couldn't help it. "Didn't your parents teach you that?"

The man did not reply. Finally, he repeated, "Give me the money. Now."

Millie looked down into her pockets. She took a step back. "I don't really care for money all that much," she admitted.

"Good. Then it's a good thing for both of us."

"If you asked nicely I would have given it all to you. But it's not nice at all to do things like this. So no."

The man's movement was too sudden for Millie to see. She only knew that when he had stepped back, her face hurt. A long line of warmth streaked across it, and she felt the warmth leave and trail down her neck, too. Blood. In his tight grip, the man held the gun, and a liquid that seemed black in the light had made a mark on the glinting metal.

More blood followed, as if racing to see which trails could touch the ground fastest. Millie placed her hand against the tender wound and brought it away. Her own blood dripped down her fingers, slipping through the space between them and rolling down the back of her hand.

It looked just like her middle big brother's. Once, he and her other brothers had been rough-housing, they'd been a bit _too _rough with her middle big brother and he'd got a big cut on his head. It bled really bad but it wasn't horribly serious.

Millie bit her lip and stared at the man in front of her. It hurt awful bad but she wasn't going to give him the money. In fact, this made her even less likely to do so. Mean people only got meaner if you gave them what they wanted. She reached slowly into her cloak, deeming this an appropriate time to bring out the stungun.

A soft but familiar voice stopped her from doing so.

"Excuse me, sir?" It was tinged with the kind of politeness that sounded like it had been dipped in acid and ground out through the speaker's teeth.

Millie heard an almost funny squeaking sound as the man abruptly slammed into the wall beside him. She opened her mouth and tasted copper. Hmm... the ground looked like it was jumping on a trampoline. Coming closer...and closer...and even closer to her face.

She looked up to see a guest, the owner of the familiar voice. He stood at the tip of a rather large cross, the receiving end of which was shoved into her attacker's abdomen. It looked sort of uncomfortable.

The voice of her attacker shattered the silence in her mind. "And...who—who the hell are you?"

"Just a traveling priest. But—" The man made squeaky, crunchy sounds as Wolfwood twisted his divine burden into the man's stomach. "—The question of the hour is _who the hell do _you _think you are?_"

The man made a halfhearted attempt at smug self-defense, but it was crushed by Wolfwood's weapon. It swung upward and slammed the man's opening mouth shut with a very loud crunch.

The crunch did not come from the cross.

Millie winced as the man's jaw hung loose, blood dripping through his teeth. "Mr. Priest!" she cried. "Don't hurt him!"

He turned toward her. His eyes, when they met hers, were filled with warmth, but before it changed, she caught a glimpse of the gaze the man had been under. Pure, burning malice. Disgust. Rage driven by the intent to kill.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't hurt him anymore." She forced a smile through the sickening haze that clogged her mind and tapped her noggin. "See, no harm done! I'm fine! So you shouldn't hurt him, either."

She couldn't stand the look of fear on that man's face. A second ago, she had been angry enough to take her stungun out and send a halo of stars swinging over that guy's head for decades. But now... "Please, don't harm him."

Wolfwood lifted his cross slowly. Words were hissed. "You better be glad she's here."

He got up, turning around. The expression on his face was unreadable.

"Mr. Priest?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you please help me up? I feel awful dizzy."

The black-suited man helped her to her feet and gave her an appraising smile like nothing had happened. "You should get that gash checked out," he finally said. "I swear, sometimes I think you're as accident-prone as that damn needle-noggin."

She laughed as she walked out of the alleyway. The second moon became visible once more as the clouds swept away from it. Wolfwood stood ahead of her, giving a very convincing and logical argument on not going into dark alleyways with "filthy, cretinous examples of humanity", but she didn't really catch most of it. She kept wondering why that man had wanted the money so badly.

She finally made a decision. Face set, she stomped back to the man. Her expression was as angry as she could ever remember it. She didn't like angry faces very much, but sometimes they were needed. She stopped and looked down at the man. He caught her gaze and started sliding farther down the wall, muttering frantic and incomprehensible words through his slack jaw. Spittle and blood dripped down his chin.

Millie didn't realize that the blood from her own wound was dripping onto him as well until he raised his hands up in defense and scarlet spatters dropped down onto his fingers from above. Her expression did not change.

Millie reached into her cape and pulled her objective out angrily. "You know, I don't know why you like to do mean things. Maybe you really need something and think that it's the best way." The man scooted farther from her as she advanced on him. "I don't agree with how you're doing it. Not at all! But..." The thing she held out to him was not a weapon. She opened her clenched fingers to reveal several bills. "While Mr. Wolfwood was ... um... when he hurt you, I saw your wallet. I did see a picture of you and some other people. It looks like a family. I think what you're doing is wrong. But I'm sorry you're hurt."

He wasn't taking the bills, so she dropped them onto his lap. "This is so you can go find a job or something." Her anger dissolved, replaced by a smile. "Jobs are where_ normal_ people get their money, you know."

The man didn't reply. He stared up at her with eyes wide, as if expecting a knife to be placed at his throat if he touched the money.

"Or you could go and use the money to get yourself fixed up at the hospital." Which, she happily reminded him, was the messy white building in the center of town. "Turn past the bell and the tomas toy and it's the building past the dirty, scary-looking bar!"

She ran back to Wolfwood and waved as she departed. She really was feeling a little bit dizzy, so she didn't mind when he put his arm around her shoulder.

The man in the alley just sort of gaped.

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**Author's Notes:** Well, I thank everyone who's read for their reviews and support. This has been so much fun because of you guys! I had a hard time getting into Millie's head, but this was one of the stories I enjoyed writing the most, simply because Millie's viewpoint was something new for me. I hope I did it okay.

I did have an alternate version of her chapter—completely different—that I couldn't finish, but if I ever get around to completing it, I'll probably post it up somewhere...or something.


	5. Knives: Preemptive Strike

**Masquerade Pt. 5: Knives; Preemptive Strike**

**Author's Notes:** Am I stretching it to assume that Knives questioned Vash more while he held him prisoner on the Ark in volume eight of the manga? (gasps deep breaths) That was a mouthful. Too...many...prepositional phrases... (dies) Anyway, the Knives chapter, AT LONG LAST! I remember in the later chapters of the manga, Legato mentioned to Vash that he held him there for **quite **a long time, so I'm supposing there was plenty of time for tea and questions with dear brother. Hope you enjoy! If you don't, stab me with those pitchforks. (points)

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Soft, measured footsteps clicked against cool metal, and a man with cropped, ash blond hair stopped in front of the darkened door. The atmosphere in this place, despite the darkness, was calm. The man smirked, and in this darkness the twisted view of his white teeth was all that could be seen. He did not have to scan his hand like anyone else would.

The airtight door slowly hissed open, and cold air bathed him immediately. He drew a very deep breath of it and walked into the room. Bluesummers stood watch over his imprisoned brother. Beneath the metal grate that held him captive, Knives could see that Vash's eyes had drifted closed just a bit. He was exhausted.

"Bluesummers, you may leave us," Knives said. He supposed that he, too, could not have afforded to sleep with that unusual spider maliciously keeping watch over him.

Bluesummers manipulated the spiked metal limb of the coffin his body was encased in, and it clattered noisily down.

"Quietly, you fool!" Knives hissed, acid ice blue eyes meeting with the calm yellowish ones of his follower.

The soft eyes averted from his gaze. No malice was there to hide, no anger or defiance. Just complete reverence. It annoyed the hell out of Knives. This man did serve a purpose, however, so his presence would be tolerated.

"Of course, Master," Legato said. He very slowly left, and the door closed with the softest hiss of air.

Knives watched his brother's face. Miraculously, the eyes were still closed, despite that spider's racket. The dark lashes had slipped over his bright turquoise blue eyes, resting there as if the slightest whisper of sound would tear him from sleep. His hair—God, the wretched style _that _woman had forced it into—had long since fallen lopsidedly around his face in thick black and blond strands.

_That blackness...is the color of death._

_How can he sleep so peacefully?_

Despite that, though, there was a tightness of tension and pain in his posture. Knives carefully kept his eyes from drifting any lower than his brother's face. If he did look, he'd see those nauseating scars, and he was sure his rage would wake Vash from the precarious rest.

Vash awoke anyway. Any semblance of peace that had been on his face vanished, replaced by caution. "Knives." It would have been almost angry if it hadn't been so sorrowful and weary.

"Sorry to have woken you, brother." Knives smiled twistedly, leaning against the solid metal wall. Only half of his face was visible in the dim light that illuminated Vash's prison.

"Yes, well, it's not the most comfortable thing in the world," Vash murmured. His voice was rough from lack of use, tinted with a dry humor Knives hadn't heard before.

Vash had changed an awful lot since back then. It was a crime that he could still look the same while sleeping, though, still look just as calm as he had _before _these humans had scarred his body.

"You're disgusting, Vash. How can you still act this way...think this way? Surely, after all that has happened, you'd have realized the incurable taint in the human race? They fear what they do not know. And Vash...they _do not know_ us. Do you remember all those years, wandering? Do you remember how many times we were shunned _even then? _How many times we were called different, whispered about..." His face contorted into a biting scowl. "And when you were alone with those wretched, insufferable bacteria, they did _this _to you."

Vash didn't speak.

"They'll kill you, brother. You know...if I were ever to release you, one day there would come a time when you were caught off guard, naive child that you are, and you would be killed. Perhaps they'd just execute you. Perhaps they'd beat you to death. Or do you think that they haven't _experimented _on our kind quite enough? Maybe they'd do to you what they did to Tessla. Maybe all I'd find of you would be the pieces that were left when they were done."

Knives was so used to reigning in his emotions. Control was everything. But thinking about _that..._ It enraged him. "Tell me brother," he said. Each word, carefully weighed, dripped with derision. "Is that how you want it to end? Do you aspire to be like our dear sister, is that it, Vash?"

"Stop!" The voice was surprisingly strong. "_Why..._" Vash's voice softened. "Why do you always bring that up. I _know_. I've thought...over and over...that it may end like that. It probably will. I have no illusions. You really want to know why, though?"

"_Her. _Because of that flawed little pet of yours. Rem."

"No," Vash said.

Knives glanced up. "Tell me, then," he hissed. "Make me understand, Vash."

"It's because you are a hypocrite. You speak of atrocities and sins that cannot be forgiven. Do you know how many Plants malfunctioned and killed the engineers? Before Tessla was born, humans died, too. What they did to her," Vash ground out, "was _wrong. _The only reason I won't join you and do the same is because I'm not willing to do to them what they did to Tessla. They didn't give her a chance to live, or to grow. What you're doing is just the same. Preemptive, Knives."

Knives leaned back, further burying his face. "Oh?"

"It's what you are. You're so damned afraid of these marks on me, so afraid of being harmed by these humans that you attack them before you know who they are. It's called a preemptive strike. Like on the SEEDs ships. Don't tell me you can't remember those faces. Do you remember that girl, the one who looked so much like Tessla? How about the old couple who Rem told us wanted to be put into cold sleep right beside each other? Those children...you remember their names just as well as I do. Can you look me in the eye and tell me they deserved to die?"

"Legato," Knives said.

"Yes, Master," came the voice from outside the room.

"I'm done here. Resume your post."

"You can't, can you," Vash murmured.

Knives smiled back as he left. "Sleep, dear brother. Soon, it will all be over."

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**Author's Notes: **Mwahahahaha! No tea. How's my evil laugh? Anyway, I've always wondered if, in truth, Vash was the stronger of the twins. It's interesting to think that when Knives saw what happened to Tessla, he fainted, but when Vash saw it, he remained awake... And Vash, despite whatever misconceptions he may hold, has enough determination to knowingly put his life on the line for the humans who sap the life of his kind. Knives takes the easy way out: preemptive annihilation. Hehe, anyway, this just a look into the dark and twisted yet strangely logical mind of Knives by yours truly. Hope you enjoyed it! **Please Review!**


	6. Legato: The Gift of Death

**Masquerade Pt. 6: Legato; The Gift of Death**

**Disclaimer/Notes:** I don't own (insert anime) and never will. Anyway, I sort of found myself feeling sorry for Legato while writing this! It's more mangaverse than anything, because Legato gets some more development in the manga, like Knives. He's a little bit different than how he is in the anime. His icky past is explained... Anyway, I hope this is okay! It's really only my second story with Legato as a primary character, and the first one in which I've ever written him seriously. Anyway...yeah, this is a little bit twisted. But IC, I hope?

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Dead. The man in front of him was dead.

Legato hadn't realized it until he felt a streak of warmth slip down his face. The desert traveler slid to the ground as scarlet spread through the rough cloth of his cloak. Without blinking, Legato reached a finger up to swipe the liquid from his cheek, and he licked it. Blood.

He looked up at his master, whose glare stopped the boy from doing anything further. "Filth," his master said simply. "If you're going to follow me, I won't have you touching it." He did nothing more. He walked forward and Legato stared down at the traveler. He hurriedly wiped the offending marks of scarlet from his face.

The man had done nothing wrong. He'd simply had the misfortune to be traveling the same route as Legato and his master. He'd seemed kind enough. He'd stopped on his way past them, shielding his eyes against the bright noonday light of the suns, and had asked them if they needed water.

But his master needed nothing. To assume so was an affront.

Legato Bluesummers did not spare the man another glance. He hurried to catch up with his master. Deep indigo hair, hastily sheared, slipped over his eyes no matter how much he tried to tuck it behind his ears. Clothes salvaged from the ruins fit his slim frame too loosely.

A thought flickered through his head, there only for the briefest moment, barely long enough to become consciously acknowledged. _If he failed this master...would he die, too?_

It didn't matter. He simply wouldn't fail. He _could not_ fail this man.

His hair slipped over his eyes again. He didn't bother to move it.

The next time someone got in Master's way, _he _would kill them. For what his master had saved him from...for how that man had freed him, he would do anything. Anything that was in the range of his abilities. As one left living by this powerful being, he would repay that debt with his life, if it became necessary.

They rested when the suns set that night. A single red moon was visible in the sky, and Legato sat away from the fire his master had built, off in the shadows where only soft flickers of gold illuminated his face. He had pocketed a sharp slab of rock while the blond man wasn't looking.

He was too human. The more he thought about dying, the more he hated it. A while ago, he hadn't minded the thought. To die was to be released from the hell he'd lived in. He couldn't explain it, but more than anything, now...he wanted to live.

It was a horrible feeling.

He took the rock and pressed it to the skin of his wrist, twisting the rock until it pierced his flesh. Blood welled up around the filthy wound. He did the same to his other wrist. Each was only deep enough to bleed, not deep enough to be fatal. He blinked lazily, uninterestedly, as he watched the scarlet that dripped lazily down both arms.

_My blood..._

He placed the rock against his chest and carved a similar wound.

_My heart..._

Gingerly, his fingers caressed the slice on his neck, nearly healed.

_My very existence...my humanity..._

He looked to the man sleeping silently in the flickering light.

_They're yours. I am not a human but a blade to be used and discarded at your will._

From that night on, it was sealed. He learned how to follow behind his master, several steps back but not too far behind lest his master think he was not paying attention. He learned how to act, and how to live the half-life he had alloted to himself. He cut his hair to reflect that fact, seeing the world through a single eye.

He had lived all of his life thus far to please others. Slavery was all he'd ever known. He did not know how to live any other way, and this was just another, more desirable form of captivity.

Years...it really seemed like an eternity since that day, since he had been chosen. Other tools—other blades had been thrown into the dust of this arid planet, left to be broken down by the brutal winds, and yet he was still here. It was weakness; it truly was just a sign of his own lingering humanity that he felt satisfaction at this fact.

There came a day when that age-old promise was called upon, and he knew that this fight would be his last.

Why, then? At the end...at the end of everything, why did he allow himself to feel again? Perhaps because, even though he was indebted to his master and resigned to accept whichever fate he was handed, it felt nice to try the bonds he'd been placed in all his life, to see what was beyond them.

Freedom before death, if only for a moment.

It was all he needed. It was all he wanted.

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**Author's Notes: **That was more fun to write than I thought it would be! Digging into Legato's head was great. ::puts a bandaid on Legato's broken brain:: Well, this is the last story for now, so I'll label this as complete. With my impulsiveness, who knows if it's really complete, though...

I really hope you enjoyed this, and all the crazy little stories that preceded it. I'm not sure if I've gotten the characters right, but it was fun to try to see life through their eyes (disturbing and depressing at some points, too.) Thank you so much for reading! **Please, please review**...if anyone would take a moment to leave their thoughts, I'd be so grateful. Are the characters IC? I know some pretty crazy thoughts have been jammed into these pathetic little oneshots, but I tried to keep the characters true to their anime and manga counterparts.


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